Incognito
by Snow Sorceress
Summary: [G1] A wealthy Autobot contemplates the Autobot Cause and his place in it.


Disclaimer: Do not own any characters of Transformers. All characters go to the lucky chums at Takara and Hasbro. No money is made by me, I'm nice and poor and I have nothing to be sued for.

Incognito

I wasn't like them. I wasn't like them at all.

I had no desire to continue this endless bloodshed for what they called the "light" at the end of the tunnel - freedom. I don't choose to be on this decrepit planet, with its unpredictable atmosphere and sporadic weather. I don't approve of involving innocent, feeble creatures who didn't know what a true world war was like until we came. Optimus Prime is just as guilty as our enemies of fostering the war into this immortal misery. What fools my comrades are, duping themselves into thinking they enjoy the Earth because it's where they are staying.

Once again I lean against the rock formation, given an insignificant assignment to stay ahead of the enemy, my abilities giving the necessary advantage.

I know what my compatriotssay about me. They assume I do not hear or care about their gossip. I surprise them when my battle finesse exceeds their own. It is tiring that they are shocked every time. I am much more than they believe. Deplorably, I am not trusted or believed in; I never was.

_The hour was late in the entertainment hall. Pleasant music echoed over the crowd, sounds that cannot be described by speech or heard specifically by ear. Colorful entertainers manipulated floating liquid droplets and threw artificial stars among the audience. _

_Then as suddenly as an engine turning overdrive, screaming and explosions replaced the applause. The enjoyable atmosphere turned swiftly to pandemonium. The concept of time was forgotten as the fight for survival overwrote the desire to be civilized. Even my ability to disappear didn't save me from being caught in the stampede of the hysterical masses. The pain, however, did not last exceedingly long and the darkness was more welcomed than feared. _

Some time later, I was roused from my oblivion into the harsh reality. Rubble was shifted as someone pulled me through a narrow gap. At once I fell to my knees, everything I knew in shambles across the horizon. My rescuers then weren't any more elegant than they are now.

"_Everyone's dead. Come on, we have to evacuate." One said, but I could not quite comprehend. Shell-shocked wasn't a strong enough word for what I felt. The others... dead? But what had happened! Half delirious, I shook my head._

"_No, we have to get back to Senix, my friends are probably there." I pleaded. Several of the turf soldiers scowled at the suggestion, jealousy written on their faceplates. The larger one shook his head. Senix was destroyed as well, he told me. I could only stare, traumatized and mute. How could that be? Where were the guardians? We were supposed to be protected!_

I scarcely remember what happened after that, even though I have excellent memory retainers. What I do remember was the feeling of grief upon seeing my friends' gray bodies. Followed by the grief was the strong will to avenge them, and all others of my class. Not once did I consider the consequences of the action I would take. Never did I imagine that I would not be welcomed with opened arms, or that thousands of years from that time, I would be questioning the very oath I had sworn.

Watching the military efficiency of my enemies, I couldn't help but envy them. They were clean and precise, not lazy and sloppy. They followed protocol, and had a set system. Where I stand on the battlefield is, in most instances, a mix of semi-controlled chaos and improvisation. There have been times when I stayed in my stealth mode because it seemed that we would surely lose. Before the imminent arrival on the blue planet, I had been anticipating the inevitable extinction of my comrades. Unfortunately, the independence I yearned for never came. Why couldn't my fellows just give into their cousins? Why did they continue to fight a war that had raged for uncounted millennia? I am becoming more and more certain of one thing: my enemy's way is what would be best for Cybertron. It would once again be rich in resources, and be the reigning capitol of the universe. Then I could go back to my beloved home and be with refined beings that do not need war to solve their problems...

Upon returning to the base, I hand my report to Optimus, who in turns gives his usual pep talk. When a superior has to continually give you motivation to keep you going, something is wrong. I pass the same mechs that I've passed for years; still they act as if I was in my stealth mode. Do they not see me? Or do they not want to see me? Is it because I'm different from them?

I've stopped trying to fit in with them. Too many times I've tried to mingle, tried to understand their love for this war, to voice my own opinion... but they don't want to hear it… because I'm right - everything is better on Cybertron. The acceleration of this war isn't all that seems to taunt me, but also isolation: my feeling of "homesickness", as the humans call it.

I return to quarters covered with whatever Cybertronian artifacts I could get hold of. Gazing at the holoscreen revealing the planet from afar, I felt a twinge. I just wanted my life back, just wanted to be with my friends again. I missed the old days desperately. Maybe, if I defected, I could get out of this… get back to Cybertron. Surely the alpha class hadn't been completely wiped out, just driven underground. The other Autobots believed in their leader's philosophy; "freedom is the right of sentient beings". Curious, that war would be the way they enforce this, just as Megatron carries out his own philosophy. At least the Decepticons hadn't vastly changed from what they had been, into turf-rugged endangered mechs - they still were military-based conquest seekers.

Maybe… it was the right way to go. It wasn't likely that anyone but Optimus Prime would notice I was gone - and then, only when he had need of my abilities.

The idea looked decisive and more lucid every time I considered its option.

The End.


End file.
